Aftermath
by MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Summary: The cost of doing business leaves Bravo Team reeling. Chapter One: Mandy makes a decision. Chapter Two: Nothing seemed like it should. As Sonny battles a sense of melancholy, Naima vows to fight for her husband. Chapter Three: With Jason in crisis, Clay's sense of contentment feels threatened. Chapter Four: Jason reappears to find his family waiting and ready to help.
1. Chapter 1

Aftermath

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: The cost of doing business leaves Bravo Team reeling.

* * *

A/N: Not a lot of action; but loads of introspection.

* * *

Chapter One: Mandy

Mandy sighed deeply, tightly gripped the hair on both sides of her head and pulled with some force. The self-inflicted pain was brief, but did the trick – bringing her back to the moment.

She was beside herself with frustration, in a sort of panic really; full of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She rarely felt this way, out of control – and didn't like it. How was it that she was so completely blindsided and caught off guard? How was it that she didn't know?

Clearly derailed, she clenched her mouth shut and ground her teeth from side to side to keep from blurting out obscenities. She could cuss with the best of them, thanks to her brothers, but this wasn't the time or the place. A headache settling at the base of her skull had her left eye bouncing in concert with her erratically beating heart. Massaging her neck, she could feel the tension bunched up in tight little knots. If she wasn't careful, she was going to have a stroke.

A seasoned veteran of solving problems, facing down terrorists, butting heads with men of power had not prepared her for the challenge in front of her that seemed insurmountable. What should be her next course of action? What was the right thing to do?

Heart racing, she gazed over at Jason Hayes and could not contain the catch in her throat. Covering her mouth she pressed down hard, determined to stifle her grief and not let this brief moment of weakness escalate into a sob; or worse, outright weeping.

With some relief, she was glad Jason did not notice her distress. Instead he sat frozen in her favorite arm chair, staring off into space – looking at nothing in particular that she could discern.

Leaning forward, Mandy asked aloud for what seemed to her like the one hundredth time, "Where are you Jason?" Getting no response, she leaned back on the sofa and forced herself to calm down; and listen to her voice of reason. Listen to that inner voice of cool calculation that always pulled her out of trouble, or out of her own way.

That voice never let her down; especially when chaos stormed around her. Right now, that voice was telling her that she needed help. Handling this situation alone was not an option.

Jason was in serious trouble – his health obviously compromised; and his mind wandered off in some unknown place. Rubbing tiredly at her eyes, she recalled the image of Bravo Team practically running off base, ready to go home and reintroduce themselves to wives, children, friends….their old routines of life.

She had been eager too. Glad to accompany Jason to his favorite eating place; and share time with a friend away from the stressors of the job.

Bone tired, Mandy sank deeper into the soft confines of her sofa. Was that really only yesterday – no this morning that they had come home? Landing on solid ground, leaving behind the shifting sand, the duplicity of politics and the horrors of battle witnessed?

They had successfully avenged Echo Team, shut down a human trafficking ring, and cancelled out a family feud of waring drug factions. Home, peace of mind – a break from mayhem is all she wanted.

Mandy stared up at the ceiling of her apartment. They hadn't left behind anything. Peace of mind was an illusion. The proof of that was sitting still as a statue right in front of her – lost somewhere she couldn't reach.

The war had come home with Jason, and as far as she could see, held a firm grip on him now. Nothing she said seemed to penetrate the bubble he was ensconced in. Her worried gazes or pleas to, "Speak to me", did not illicit his signature half smile which always reassured her and spoke volumes without having to say, "I'm okay."

A blank stare or a furrow of the brow was all she got.

Looking away, she pinched the bridge of her nose and thought about the last few hours. It had taken every ounce of her diplomatic skill to convince the manager of the diner not to call 911 after Jason's outburst.

She could tell the patrons were frightened, but then almost instantly forgiving once they heard her harried explanations of, "He's just returned from Afghanistan."

It had taken even more to not spook Jason as she wondered how she was to get him out to her car.

Mandy counted her blessings and felt relief overtake her anxieties. They had been lucky. No one pulled out a cell phone to record how Jason had turned over tables and chairs; lamented with sorrow to thin air or gently bent down to beseech a frightened child – repeating, "I tried to save you", over and over again.

How unexpectedly from a back booth an elderly gentleman, shoulders hunched, hair white with age; eyes a cold steel blue, made his way toward them. Then without hesitation, stood tall within Jason's personal space, and bellowed out with purpose, "Stand down soldier"; years melting away from his countenance, giving his voice strength with the aura of command.

Miraculously it worked. Jason stepped back, and then waited with deference to follow orders. It was the only way they had made it out to the car. Jason confused, compliant, obeying orders from a brother in arms he did not know, from another generation, but who he trusted implicitly.

In the driver's seat, ready to pull away from the lot, she had called out a heartfelt, "Thank you." Remembering now, that she didn't even know her savior's name; only that in her rearview mirror she could just make him out, limping up the curb back into the diner; his commanding nature all but vanished – swallowed up, lost in time.

She would go back; find him – she promised herself. Find him and thank him properly.

Yes, they had been more than lucky, and she was grateful; because Jason was somewhere else in that diner, just as he was somewhere else now, here sitting in her apartment. Talking to people he could only see, and hear; immersed in a sea of guilt that was surely drowning him.

He should have told her the extent of his head injury. She should have at least been more aware, as being prepared was her gift. This she wasn't prepared for.

Fiddling with her cell phone many options began to filter through the noise of apprehension. Her inner voice was finally gaining some traction. She could call 911 – get Jason some medical help; and deal with his wrath later. She could call Blackburn – who would tell her to bring him in; get Jason evaluated and go from there. Or she could call Bravo Team.

Maybe, somehow they could pull Jason back from wherever he was now and once back here with them, they could decide the next course of action.

With only a brief hesitation, Mandy pressed BRAVO on her contact list and waited.

TBC

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you think. Your comments and thoughts mean a lot! Also, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and clicked favorite for 'Welcome to DEVGRU'. The response to that story is much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Aftermath

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: The cost of doing business leaves Bravo Team reeling.

* * *

Chapter Two: Nothing seemed like it should. As Sonny battles a sense of melancholy, Naima vows to fight for her husband.

In clear, booming surround sound, Sonny's seventy inch smart T.V. blared out the breaking news for the day.

Reporting in even tones, the journalist announced that, "Alan Cutter and other top officials of Xeon Tactical were arrested today in Jalalabad." Her voice droned on as the scene played out in high definition with law enforcement escorting men and women out of a brick building. Attempting to hide their faces from intrusive cameras, the accused were led away in handcuffs.

Nondescript vehicles waited by the curb, doors open; ready to take them away. Just like in one of his all-time favorite shows from the past, 'Hill Street Blues.'

Sonny chuckled at the dire expression on Cutter's face. "You're going to jail asshole", he murmured to the television screen and took a bite of white rice from the take out container. What a fucking prick, he thought inwardly and felt a sense of weariness come over him like a crashing wave.

Surprised at his reaction or lack thereof, he knew he should have felt something more than mild amusement to the news. They had been to hell and back to avenge Echo Team; and Cutter's downfall was a part of that. Some anger would be appropriate, but nah….there was nothing.

If he couldn't feel angry or even happy, then at least he should feel something more akin to satisfaction. It all but vindicated Jason's seemingly off the wall rants and theories. But instead of satisfaction, he just felt numb.

Reluctantly, he had to admit that coming home wasn't what it was all cracked up to be. So far it had been a huge let down.

Sure, the air was free of swirling sand, making it easier to take a deep breath without feeling a tickle at the back of his throat. Sure, it was great to call for Chinese takeout and lay it out for systematic delight in front of him to enjoy at his leisure. Sure, he could finally sit before his beloved set, tricked out with every channel available to man, voice activation, and the best internet streaming had to offer.

He had been looking forward to this luxury for months. To put his feet up, relax, and blot out the noise of near death experiences, gun fire, explosions and air craft falling to earth. To binge on his favorite television shows and for a few hours lose himself in mindless entertainment. Where he didn't have to think; make a decision; or watch good men succumb in more ways than one.

Laying down his chopsticks, Sonny leaned back on the sofa and aggressively massaged his scraggly beard. Nothing seemed like it should. Everything felt so empty. Only hours separated from that God forsaken country and he felt like a freak'n zombie.

He couldn't understand it.

Over there he felt alive, needed, connected to his team; revved up with adrenaline twenty-four seven; even into his dreams.

Here, seated in his immaculate living room, with all the amenities he could possibly need surrounding him, he felt lost; inconsequential – out of sorts.

Reaching for the remote, he turned off the t.v. and welcomed the silence, ready to finish his meal. He had ordered all of his favorites to celebrate the successes of Bravo Team's deployment and safe return.

Leaning over to finish off the orange chicken, his mind fell on Danny and suddenly he didn't feel so hungry. What he had managed to eat sat like lead in his stomach, and left a bad taste in his mouth. Taking a swig of beer he thought of Davis and her tough exterior.

When he left her at the hospital, he could tell that she was devastated – angry even, but he could understand it. She had made it clear she didn't want him there with her. She wanted to see Danny alone. Davis wasn't one to show her emotions in front of others – unless it was derision; and he wasn't one to push or provide platitudes or give comfort when it wasn't wanted.

It wasn't in his DNA.

But he understood Danny, and recognized a lot of his good friend in himself. To live on such a high for months on end, year after year; to be dangerous without repercussions; to live on the edge and be so mother fucking invincible was hard to come down from.

To then just come back home and be expected to slide back into normal was not only daunting but unrealistic.

Who survived the shit they encountered over there and not be affected – not be changed in some way? He could relate to the man's pain and raised his beer can to give a silent salute, hoping for the best; then swallowed down what was left in one fell swoop.

Wiping his mouth, Sonny sat very still on the sofa and wondered how Davis was holding up, but hadn't the energy to reach for the phone. He should probably get his ass up and put the food away before it spoiled, but he didn't have the energy for that either. Instead, he sat and watched the sun go down and let the room fall into a blanket of darkness, uninterested in putting on a light.

Limbs heavy, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes and gave himself permission to let go and drift.

Tomorrow would be better. He would get up from this spot; visit Danny; go to work…. and hope to God that another mission awaited them.

As he wandered down into sleep, in his ear he could hear Jason yelling over a cacophony of noise and explosions, "Bravo Three – I've you covered." Without hesitation, Sonny breathed out, "Copy that."

And then the phone rang.

* * *

Naima was worried.

Ray had come home, but he wasn't really here. Her joy at having him physically in the house to fill up the empty spaces was tempered with trepidation.

Unlike in the past when he came home from deployments, eager to see them; overwhelmed with gratitude that he had survived one more time – this time was different. Although he seemed happy, she could tell he was going through the motions.

Like always on his return, he kissed her, hugged her; stared down into her eyes and professed how much he missed her and the children. How he loved her and couldn't wait to sleep in his own bed without fine grains of sand scratching at his skin…and she believed him. Only it wasn't the same. Her heart skipped a beat as she held him close.

Ray was distracted and spoke little while she updated him on events while he was away. Events he usually appreciated hearing that helped keep him grounded and ready to acclimate back into everyday life. News about the neighbors, Jameelah's new love for soccer, her school and friends; how their baby boy had rolled over and pulled himself up in the crib; the new road changes leading out to the base, and what needed attention around the house.

He nodded while she spoke of such things and soothingly rubbed her knuckles like he always did as they sat on the couch entangled in each other's space. But part of her Ray was somewhere else. She had sensed him close down a bit at their infant son's reaction to his touch, but knew in time it would get better; and knew that Ray understood that too. They had been through this before.

She knew about the boy, his shoulder, the inquiry and thought this must be what held her husband back; away from her. He was a good man, a religious man who felt things deeply – who always wanted to do the right thing; who agonized over his own shortcomings; and leaned heavily on the word of God. He would carry his part in that child's death with him always.

Naima placed her head on her husband's chest; listened to the cadence of his beating heart and breathed in the scent that was distinctly him. Here was her Ray, the love of her life – her soul mate. If she were to lose her sight, there was no doubt that she could wander in the darkness...find him and know him.

They shared so much of each other – the good, the bad, the ugly and all that other stuff whirling in-between. Maybe this was something he would always keep buried, to bring out and look at alone without her.

Naima felt the warm air of his breath tickle her hair and burrowed deeper in his arms. She could not lose him. Not after all these years of hard work, trust and love between them. They would weather this storm together. She would not back down and let this distant clone of her husband wrest him away and leave her bereft.

Meer hours. He had only been home for hours and she knew that she had a fight on her hands.

"I promise you", she whispered softly; and squeezed him hard about the waist.

"Promise me what?" Ray asked, his brow furrowed, confused as the conversation seemed to have taken a turn in a new direction.

"That I'm here for you. That I'm going to win."

Ray laughed softly; touched her cheek then kissed her forehead. And there with that unmistakable twinkle in his eye was her husband staring down at her - his face an open book of love, pain and regrets. Gasping with relief, she kissed the side of his mouth, once; twice – three times in succession then hummed with pleasure, as he returned each peck with one of his own. Tears welled up in her eyes then fell without shame.

Ray tenderly thumbed them away and responded in earnest, "I'm counting on it babe."

In that moment Jameelah rushed into the room and grabbed her father's hand, pulling and begging as only children do, "Daddy, come look at my room now and see!"

Ray stood then and let his daughter lead the way as she chattered on about the new pink paint on the walls, and how she couldn't wait for him to see it.

As his warmth receded from her side, Naima could hear his laughter booming; bouncing off the walls filling their home up with his presence.

Sighing with relief, glad to hear her husband laugh, Naima steeled herself for the battle to come. Maybe this mood Ray found himself in had something more to do with Jason. Keeping such a secret about his injury would surely cause a rift…they were so close, and she was no fool.

There would be repercussions. But she had made a promise and would keep it.

Then the phone rang.

TBC

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Your comments and thoughts are much appreciated. Also, thank you to everyone who read chapter one and left a review. Your comments mean a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

Aftermath

By MusketeerAdventure

Summary: The cost of doing business leaves Bravo Team reeling.

* * *

Chapter Three: With Jason in crisis, Clay's sense of contentment feels threatened.

* * *

Next to Stella, Clay felt a sense of contentment that had eluded him for months now. And if he were honest this feeling of ease and comfort had been elusive in his life for quite some time.

Here, with her, he could breathe easy, think clearly, let go of the past and look forward to new beginnings. This was a rare occurrence for him…to be happy and wished that time would stand still so that he could etch every second in stone so as not to forget.

Tracing the length of her bare arm, he wondered what she might be thinking in her sleep. Did she truly feel the same as he did? Murmuring something he couldn't decipher, he drew her in close to his side – hoping to capture the words; straining to hear wisps of her thoughts uninhibited by sleep. It was unfair, he knew, as Stella was an outspoken person; and if he wished to know her feelings all he need do was ask. It's what he admired most about her…the ability to talk straight.

She pressed into his side without hesitation… relaxed and warm – beads of sweat standing out on her brow.

She fit perfectly next to him, and his heart swelled with what he thought must be love. In this moment, the heat, sand, and sorrow that was Afghanistan was all but forgotten; relegated to a bad dream he was now awakened from. Here was home, he thought – then whispered to her under the cloak of darkness, "I'm home."

Stella's reaction to his return earlier today, was more than he could have hoped for. It was how he dreamed it would be. So much so that it was that image of her leaping into his arms, that gave him the courage to say, "I love you" in front of people he didn't even know.

The eruption of jubilant clapping and cell phones snapping pictures went right over his head. He only had eyes for her. That moment of connection when she pulled him in and pressed her lips to his was worth everything. She did love him, she must love him – how could he doubt it?

Hope springs eternal, he told himself inwardly, as she did not repeat his declaration. What had he expected? Taking back his proposal was one of the biggest regrets of his life. He would have to work hard to regain what was lost. But he would do it.

Back here, now in their apartment; the ink of night engulfed them and only a sliver of moonlight peeked in through the blinds. The warm feel of her was comforting, and had him basking in the radiant glow of hours spent talking, laughing, and lovemaking – forgoing food to just be together. Even now, as his belly rumbled with hunger, he could not bring himself to leave her side.

Reaching for Razor's amulet he felt it missing from its place around his neck. It had been such a part of him for so long that he felt a little lost without it. But more keenly he felt Echo Team's loss, for they wouldn't be coming home to loved ones. They would not experience the joy he felt now with Stella's soft breath tickling his ribs. Their families, left now with only memories.

They had avenged Echo, but what really did it mean?

Boss would say it meant brotherhood; loyalty…integrity. That it was up to them to preserve Echo's legacy. That the legacy of SEAL; of DEVGRU is what guides us; gives us direction. Without it there was nothing.

Sighing deeply, Clay hugged Stella the more and kissed her wet brow; the salty taste grounding him, telling him that this was not a dream, not the fantasy that kept him from losing his mind for all those months. This was the real deal. She was here. He was here. He was finally home. This gift; this sense of home she offered without even knowing it…he would humbly accept.

Boss had kept his promise. His word was his bond and he owed the man not only his gratitude, but his life and his loyalty. More so than his own father, who he knew to be fickle with the truth and where home had been a place fraught with uncertainty and harsh, unyielding expectations.

Lowering his hand from around his neck, Clay conceded that leaving Razor's good luck charm behind was a good idea. Left hidden in the rafters for the next person to find who might be lucky enough to grab the top bunk as he had; was like paying it forward in a way. He was not a superstitious person per se, but couldn't deny that the charm had given him an added sense of courage, determination and focus. It would do so for others.

He was sure of it.

Tomorrow he would seek out Razor's family and reach out to them. Let them know that though gone, his presence was keenly felt and along with Bravo, had gotten him through some tough times.

On that note, Clay felt his lids grow heavy little by little and though reluctant to rest closed his eyes and felt the tug of sleep dragging him down. And in that in-between place could hear Bravo Team calling out their designations in his ear…clear and distinct; with Boss concluding stridently, "Stay tight and follow me."

"Yes Boss", he whispered.

Then the phone rang.

* * *

Clay knocked on the door and once let in could see that he was the last one to get there. Searching the small apartment, he startled a bit as all eyes turned in his direction to welcome him. Ellis grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him in to join the conversations already in full discussion mode. Clay wasn't sure what was happening, so settled for standing at attention and gaining information through listening and watching.

Halfway between slumber and dreams, he had received the urgent text to "come", then the address and broke speed limits getting dressed and then driving like a mad man to get here. He was reluctant to leave Stella, who murmured for him to "go"; her voice husky with sleep and deep with understanding. So with her permission raced to be with his "family" without looking back.

The message had unnerved him. It was the same message received just before deployment when Steve Porter and Echo Team had been lost. That message of "come" had led to heartache, and then months of deployment touched by the ruthless pursuit of revenge.

Mouth dry, he gazed around at all the faces and could see that everyone from Bravo Team was here. No one was missing, or sitting down or being quiet. The noise level was pretty high, making it hard to concentrate. Glad to see everyone accounted for he yelled above the fray to Ellis, "What's going on?"

Turning to give him her full attention he could see the worry and tension on her face. Reaching for her hand, Clay held on tight and frowned, his heart beat ratcheting up a bit.

Something was terribly wrong. He had never seen Ellis like this. The Ellis he knew was always in complete control – even when she wasn't. Her self-discipline and restraint was legendary. If she were ever pessimistic or resigned he wouldn't have known it…. until now. Though her grip was strong, the flush about her neck; the tremble of her bottom lip was a dead giveaway.

Looking away from him, he followed her line of sight and observed across the room, Boss seated in an arm chair – gripping the sides; his focus straight ahead, nodding slightly as Ray knelt in front of him speaking softly.

Responding to his raised eyebrow, Ellis continued as if she had been speaking all along. "He's better now that you're all here. His memory is spotty, but he recognizes everyone, and doesn't seem so lost. He was pretty pissed at me when everyone started to show up."

"He'll be glad to see you", she continued.

Clay ghosted a smile, and squeezed her shoulder. "I think he's going to be alright", she finished in a rush. She released a breath, and Clay could sense some measure of relief. Nodding his understanding, he squeezed her shoulder again, and then made his way toward Boss to see for himself.

To be sure that everything was okay. Always Boss was the strong one, a mentor in all things from the field of battle, to his everyday life and at times reached down into his subconscious to offer advice, give direction; and provide a standard to follow, whether he wanted it or not… without ever saying a word.

He needed Boss to be okay.

Winding his way around Brock, Trent, Davis, Sonny and Cerberus – whose bodies filled up the small space leaving little room to navigate, Clay heard snatches of their conversations.

….. "he got banged up pretty good"

….. "no wonder he's confused"

….. "a concussion is all"

….. "Ellis said he was talking to dead people"

Clay frowned and remembered right after the helo crashed how Boss seemed different to him, not who he was before; the same Jason Hayes…but not. It had worried him at first, but then he seemed better; his strange behavior attributed to how hard he hit his head. He had been cleared for duty. Boss was okay. Everything was as it should be….right?

They had all made it back, just as Boss promised. Stella had been waiting. All his family was here.

Clenching his fists, Clay admonished himself. He had mistakenly pushed the war aside, relegating it to a bad dream. But it wasn't a bad dream – it was a tenacious living nightmare threatening to unsettle his newly found contentment.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

Clenching his teeth, Clay set his jaw and moved with purpose toward Boss, determined to help.

TBC

* * *

Thanks so much for reading. Please leave a review to let me know what you think. Also, "thank you" so much to everyone who has read chapter one and two; and left a comment. Your thoughts mean a great deal and are much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Aftermath

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: The cost of doing business leaves Bravo Team reeling.

* * *

Chapter Four: Jason reappears to find his family waiting and ready to help.

* * *

Jason emerged from a cavernous, winding tunnel seated in a green and red striped sofa chair.

Senses whirling, he turned toward the entrance and could just make out the dark path leading back into the void. At its breach, there the child stood staring at him; brown eyes filled with dread; his hair, face; and clothes dusty with sand. Throat constricting, Jason attempted to swallow down his guilt as he distinctly remembered the boy's agony from a year ago, while he lay dying in his arms.

Perplexed, he watched as the child waited at the opening and held out his hand, urging him to come. Jason studied the solemn face, and pressed his lips firmly together... decision made. He wasn't going back. Regret overwhelmed him, but he could not reenter. Would not reenter and remain a willing captive.

Tentatively, the child stepped back; and lowered his outstretched hand as the entrance closed in around him.

Confused, and a bit relieved, Jason turned away from the now empty space, to regard his surroundings….on alert. Coming in from the dark was a jarring experience that left him with an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. Where was he exactly?

Squinting against the glare of a nearby floor lamp he was surprised to see Ray, then most of his team gathered around, with Ellis' arms wrapped around his neck.

Overt affection from her was rare. Like him, Ellis was not usually a tactile person, so he pet her lightly on the back and waited patiently for her to let him go. When she exclaimed, "Thank God", his antennae tuned in to the possibility of trouble. Looking to Ray in order to get a sense of context, he received the nod that all was clear.

When she let go of his neck and leaned back to get a good look at him, Sonny's, "Fuck Jason, you scared the shit out us", took him aback, and he wracked his brain as to the man's reaction. He wondered how he should respond, but needn't have worried as Sonny moved away – beer in hand to sit gravely next to Davis; who sat perched on the edge of the matching green and red striped sofa across from him.

Their identical twin glares would have been funny, if he knew what the hell was going on.

Trent and Brock hung back with apprehensive looks of concern, while Cerberus weaved in and out between their ankles panting with agitation. Clay was nowhere to be seen.

Head pounding, heart racing he turned to his best friend and asked, "Ray?" Counting on his right hand man to give it to him straight and leave nothing out. Quietly Ray took position; braced on one knee by his side and began to speak softly – his tone low and even. Taking that as a cue, Cerberus inched forward and leapt into his lap. Reaching down, Jason rubbed behind her ears to give some comfort and he a much needed touchstone.

For the next hour, Jason sat listening intently over the noise in the room as Ray talked him through what had apparently transpired over the last few hours of his life. He could hear the urgency in Ray's voice so nodded as if he understood what his number two was going on about.

However, try as he might, he had no memory of walking off the C-17; leaving base; hitting the diner with Ellis or freaking out. And definitely, had no recollection of how he got here to her apartment with the whole team milling around him like mother hens; walking on egg shells so as not to upset him.

Though he believed every word of Ray's narrative, he found it hard to comprehend or even explain his actions. Had he finally stepped over the edge? Had the psychiatrist Dr. what's her name been right all along? He wasn't sure.

What he did know was that his head hurt like hell and the ringing in his ears was a goddam nuisance. Jason rubbed at his temples and noticed that along with the very real sensation of an ice pick embedded in his left eye; the room was now bathed in an olive green aura, thick and wavy – distorting his vision. What the hell, he thought and groaned with impatience.

Despite his physical discomfort, Jason was glad to see his team. It meant they had his back, but God Almighty, he just needed some peace. Their voices of concern, words of support, pats on the back…though appreciated were like nails screeching across a chalkboard. The instinct to cover his ears was strong, but he resisted the urge and stroked Cerberus the more for it…her low, pleased growls – an incentive to continue.

If everyone would just shut up and leave him be for just a minute, maybe he could gather his wits and make sense of this situation.

Searching the room, he locked eyes with Ellis – silently thanking her for her concern; glad she had reached out to the others, but letting her know how pissed he was with all of the attention. She ignored him and shrugged her shoulders; as if to say, "Too bad. Deal with it."

Jason closed his eyes to the disturbing green glow, covered his face and hoped his nonverbal body language would send a message to everyone to back off and give him some space. Cerberus deftly exited his lap; however no one else seemed to get it. Instead, the circle seemed to cave in around him even closer. Their apprehension triggering his closed off nature to show as stubbornness.

They weren't going to give up and go away. Letting out an audible sigh, he was resigned to the fact that as Sonny would put it, "Bravo Team stuck together at nauseam." And he loved them for it.

"I'm okay", he whispered to Ray; then in turn to the rest of the group, "There's nothing to worry about, that a few hours of rest won't fix." But when he opened his eyes determined to persuade somebody to drive him home, there stood Nate within the contorted haze of green looking down at him, his expression worried – teetering on afraid.

Blinking to stave off this apparition in front of him, Jason reached out swiftly and grabbed hold of Nate's shirt in a tight fisted grip. Confusion ran rampant and his headache spiked to new levels. This wasn't possible. This was not reality. Nate was dead. He knew this. He was a witness to it. The man's blood still stained not only his hands, but his heart…holding him hostage; making it hard to move forward.

But here he was. Right in front of him, just the way he remembered him. Had he come through the tunnel with him, and unlike the child decided to stay? Never one to shy away from a challenge, Jason stood to his feet and confronted this vision head on. "Nate?" he asked and cupped the side of his face. Flesh and blood; warm to the touch – whole, alive. Nothing like the others, who shimmered, then vanished at his approach.

How could this be?

"Nate" he reiterated, and gathered the man into his arms, now convinced of his presence. "It is you, isn't it?"

Feeling arms hesitantly, then with more confidence, reciprocate his hold and wrap strongly around him, Jason relaxed and held on tighter. This time he wouldn't let go. This time he would be more careful. This time he would keep better watch.

"No Boss", a voice – not Nate's murmured back in his ear. "It's me Clay."

Jason frowned, stood back and held Nate at arm's length to be sure – to get a better look. Mystified he shook his head in the negative – the ice pick embedding deeper through his eye socket down into the base of his skull, sending sparks of light out into the green murky mist.

Blinking, he swayed a bit – but quickly regained his equilibrium.

No, here was Nate. Here was his second chance to make things right; to lift the weight of anguish between them. He had begged forgiveness from all the others whose lives he let slip through his fingers, whose names and faces he could not relinquish; who at first haunted him only in his dreams, but now came to him in the light of day, reminding him of his failures.

So, now he would ask it of Nate.

"I'm sorry", he said fiercely, gripping hold of the man's shoulders. Imploring Nate to listen to his long held speech practiced in his dreams; waiting for the moment when they would meet again and he could plead for pardon.

"Can you forgive me?" he entreated, "It should have been me."

Nate seemed uncertain, and his heartbeat went still. What if he couldn't forgive him? What if Nate wanted to punish him for mistakes made; his lapse in judgement? After all it had been his fault. He was supposed to look after him; keep him safe …not get him killed. What if, like the others he decided to wait in the shadows only to appear in unexpected moments in order to challenge him; torment him...blame him?

Jason held his breath and waited.

Suddenly the ringing in his ears ceased, and where before the room cascaded with noise ….voices tumbling over one another – now there was silence. Jason turned away from Nate's curious stare and searched the faces of his team.

What he saw there gave him pause, and he turned back to study his friend – waiting for absolution.

"There's nothing to forgive Boss; nothing", Nate offered. "But if you need me to say it I will. I forgive you."

Jason let out a breath and swerved to the side, his body tilting on its own accord, as if a rug were pulled from beneath his feet. The murky green haze which engulfed the room receded and seeped out of windows; and beneath the door. His headache lifted, leaving him light headed; floaty – his vision now clear, but uncertain as to what was before him.

Reaching out to grab a hold of Nate and keep from falling he blinked and there in Nate's place materialized the kid, their newbie– helping him to take a seat; kneeling down in front him.

Baffled, Jason scanned the room in search of his friend – only to see that he wasn't there; and judging by the uncomfortable looks he received from the team, he was never there. Pinching the bridge of his nose; Jason leaned over and placed his elbows on his knees. "He isn't here is he?" he inquired to no one in particular and wondered if he were losing his mind.

"No Boss", Clay answered – his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Lifting his gaze to regard the kid closely, Jason grabbed both sides of his brother's face and peered deep into the gray eyes of someone scared shitless. More scared than he ever saw him in Afghanistan, or even that time he was trapped alone, injured behind enemy lines beneath a destroyed building – or countless other occasions when he was precariously close to death.

No, Nate wasn't here. Nate was lost to him, as were all the others, but here in this room was his team, his family. All of whom had come in search of him, found him in distress and would not abandon him.

"I'm alright" he reassured everyone; and released Clay with a quick comforting squeeze behind his neck. "I'm going to be alright."

Then looking to each in turn assured with conviction, "We're all going to be okay."

After a beat he continued, determined to believe his own declarations…he had to. What choice did he have? "No amount of knocks to the head" he chuckled lightly while tapping his forehead; "uncertainty or guilt will keep us down, as long as we have each other."

And seeing each one nod in affirmation, as if they truly shared his belief; Jason leaned back to rest. His body weary, his mind now somewhat at ease; and the room free of apparition… Jason was grateful to have his family near.

Absolutely certain he would find his way all the way home; not just half way there, as he was now – but entirely there; as long as Bravo stood together.

The End

* * *

Well, this ends 'Aftermath'. Thank you for reading. Please leave a review to let me know what you think. Also, thank you so much to everyone for the wonderful reviews; follows and favorites for the previous chapters! As always, your comments mean a great deal – and reading them puts a smile on my face! Also, I'd like to say a special thank you to shiloh99 for your comment which really helped me in delving into Jason's thoughts. I hope everyone enjoyed this.


End file.
